Sour Heart Stew
by SkyeElf
Summary: He was truly an idiot for mentioning Medea... What was he trying to accomplish, mentioning the gorgon lookalike? M&MWP.


**A/N: Credz to mew-tsubaki, who founded this pairing. Companion fic to her fic "Bitter Heart Stew". Sort of Lysander's thoughts after their date. Not that it was actually a date, more of a meal between friends. I don't own HP. Or Medea, she's an OC of mew's. Though you don't need to read that to understand this, though it would help immensely.**

**Sour Heart Stew**

Why'd he have to bring Medea Palavanius into it? He'd seen Victoire's shoulders tighten at the mention of her name… Why? He didn't even like Medea, she was snobistic, bombastic, narcissistic and pedantic. He bit back a choked laugh at his own rhyming abilities. Only the 'tic' part rhymed. He'd just described Medea… but what about him? What was he?

Pathetic, sarcastic, laughable, gullible.

He was such an idiot for trying to make Victoire jealous. Well, it worked, but he blew his chances entirely by going gaga for Medea. She looked like a gorgon, to be frank. She was such a show off, and she'd always smirked when Vic made an accident in the Potions lab. But where were they now? Medea was still stuck in a classroom, whilst Victoire had been snatched up by Madam Malkin's apprenticeship for her talents.

And Medea was still stuck in a classroom.

Victoire's free time was something of the past, but she was happy. Happier than she'd ever been at Hogwarts, that was for sure. But still, something had felt… off about their exchange. She'd stopped him from saying anything about having a thing for Medea. He did have something for her – a year or so ago. He'd been on the verge of telling her how much Medea annoyed him now. She'd gone Beauxbatons, and returned to Hogwarts a changed person. No longer the bubbly girl he'd once known and might have had feelings for. Gone were friendliness, politeness and respect. In came a large ego, an effusive attitude, a snob…

He didn't know her anymore.

And Vic just left. He'd been the one to initiate the hug – but he missed her, even if she was less than twenty steps away. He wished she'd return to Hogwarts, where he, Roxanne and Dominique could keep an eye over her. Now she was… almost empty? Yes, she was happy, but whenever he that Lysander Scamander entered the room, she fled or smiled civilly before excusing herself. Always around him. or when he was in the vicinity, her hands shook slightly, her back became rigid, her tone placid… even her hair didn't dare to move. As if one thing from him could set her off. He didn't understand… What had he done wrong? Was it because he spoke of Medea? Because he'd never been the one to initiate a hug first, that day being the exception? Was he a bad friend?

He couldn't place it. And he hated it. He absolutely abhorred her new attitude towards him.

Less than thirty steps… he could still catch up to her…

His mind was made. He jumped up from the café table, and bolted. Ignoring the angry shouts of people as he collided with them and caused their shopping bags to fall from their hands. Some tore.

He would apologize later, he decided.

There she was. Her hair shadowing her face as her head hung low. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

"Sander? What…?"

"What did I do?" He demanded. "She sighed, tucking her hand from his, disappointment evident in her eyes. He wondered what she'd been expecting that she was so utterly disappointed.

"Nothing, Sander. Just leave." She turned around again, only to be pulled back. This time he pulled her in closer than he meant to. Their faces were inches apart. He could feel her sweet, sweet breath on his lips… her lips, cherry colored, caught his eyes. Before he could stop himself, his other hand had risen to feel the lips… they were… soft? His eyes met hers again, and she was terrified.

"Lysander." She cleared her throat. "If you're quite done… groping my lips, I would like to-"

What she would like to do was never found out, as a mouth covered hers. She stared, shocked, at him. Her eyes didn't even close. Nor did his. Victoire pulled back.

"Are you done?" She asked impatiently. Lysander glared at her – or he tried to, failing epically.

"One more." Lysander grinned, pressing his lips to her perfect cherry ones. This time her eyes fluttered closed, soon followed by his.

She drew back again first.

"I have to get to work." She said, her voice quivering slightly.

"Yeah…" He let go of her wrist.

"See you." She waved a tiny wave and disapparated.

What had he done now?


End file.
